


Half Alive

by PipTheShipper



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Tony Stark, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Hurt Pietro Maximoff, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, M/M, Maximoff Twin Feels, Multi, POV Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff Feels, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipTheShipper/pseuds/PipTheShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-and then she could feel them. Wanda could feel the bullets ripping through his body, tearing through precious bone and organ and muscle, twelve of them exactly, twelve for each minute he had been in the world before her, twelve little pellets that stained his blue with red. She could feel his horror, his apology for what he had done, his satisfaction to have saved them, and then nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Where there had once been noise, now there was silence. A gaping hole where her other half used to be.<br/>Wanda screamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure where I'm going with this, so I figured I'd get some feedback :D

              Wanda could feel him, miles away, whirling across the battlefield in a blue streak, tearing into the robots that crossed his path. His mind was buzzing with energy and excitement, and she could feel his joy as clearly as if it were her own. Each jab was punctuated with fierce pride, because this was their home, and Ultron didn’t belong.

              Miles away, yet they shared the same thoughts. Because they were one. Born together, with Pietro emerging into the world first, his tiny arm gripping her heel because if he was coming out then so was she. They screamed if they were apart, and only quieted once they were placed in the same crib. Even as infants, the bond they shared was unbreakable.

              On the battlefield, yes, they were fighting robots, but they were also fighting for each other. Wanda could not bear to lose Pietro, and he could not bear to lose her. They were protecting one another, just as they always had.

              Wanda twirled around the core, scarlet dancing from her fingertips and crushing the robots that attempted to squeeze past her. She was a red tornado, and she was loving it. She had always held back with her powers, too scared to hurt anyone, too scared to hurt Pietro, but no one was near her and she could finally just let go.

              Pietro was relieved as he whisked the remaining people onto the boats, because they had made a mistake with Ultron, but maybe if they fixed what they had so carelessly broken, then they wouldn’t be so bad after all. Wanda had let her anger at Stark consume her, but never again. She had learned her lesson. Violence truly wasn’t the answer sometimes.

              Suddenly, in a matter of seconds, Pietro’s thoughts changed from excitement to pure fear. She saw the boy’s face in her mind; Costel. The boy who had told them that an iron man was waiting for them in the church. She saw the arrow guy, determination and resignation flicking simultaneously across his features, as he turned from the spray of bullets-

              -and then she could feel them. Wanda could feel the bullets ripping through his body, tearing through precious bone and organ and muscle, twelve of them exactly, twelve for each minute he had been in the world before her, twelve little pellets that stained his blue with red. She could feel his horror, his apology for what he had done, his satisfaction to have saved them, and then nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Where there had once been noise, now there was silence. A gaping hole where her other half used to be.

              Wanda screamed.

              +

              “Pietro!”

              Wide blue eyes stared back at Wanda, the only thing she could see in the dark closet. She and Pietro were huddled close on the ground, each afraid that their mother would find them.

              “She is mad,” Pietro stated with the simplicity of a nine year old, his voice wobbling slightly. Wanda pretended not to hear it; Pietro was her protector, and he hated feeling weak. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Wanda noticed that he was biting his lip hard.

              “Yes,” Wanda replied, eyes just as wide. “We should not have touched Mrs. Galstrov’s pie.” But it had been just sitting there on the window, still warm from the oven, and they had not had pie in so long. They would have gotten away with it if Mrs. Galstrov didn’t have eyes like a hawk, seeing Pietro nab the pie from two rooms away. Also, she was a nasty tattletale.

              “Pietro Maximoff! You come here this instant!” their mother demanded. Wide blue eyes turned sorrowful, and Pietro squeezed her hand.

              “I should go out,” he mumbled. “She will only get angrier.” Wanda frowned.

              “But she’ll put you in time out!” she argued in a whisper, which to him was the worst punishment of all. Sitting in a chair and being quiet was difficult for Pietro, who was so impatient and curious.

              “I know,” Pietro sighed, getting to his feet. He brushed a lock of dark hair back from his eyes, helping her up. “But I will have to go eventually. Might as well do it now.”

              “Alright,” Wanda agreed reluctantly, and they opened the door. Their mother was standing in the living room, and turned to glare at them when she saw the door open. Nervously, but still side by side, they stepped out to face their mother’s anger.

              “Pietro, did you take Mrs. Galstrov’s pie?” she asked firmly. Pietro nodded, not looking at Wanda. So, he wanted to take the fall for it, even though it had been her idea.

              “Yes, Mom,” Pietro murmured, dropping his gaze. Their mother sighed.

              “Alright, sit in the timeout chair,” she instructed. “And after you will go apologize to Mrs. Galstrov.”

              “Okay,” Pietro grumbled, and released her hand to go sit in the chair.

              “No!” Wanda protested, and Pietro’s eyes flashed up at her in surprise. Wanda turned to her mother. “It was my idea. We did it together. If Pietro is going in timeout, then so am I.” She grabbed his hand and pulled them over to the chair. He sat, and she sat on the floor next to him. Wanda crossed her arms, and Pietro followed her lead. They would endure the punishment together.

              “Well,” their mother said, a gleam in her eye. “Have it your way, then.” The two, so caught up in their little act of defiance, didn’t notice the smile their parents exchanged. It pleased them to know that their children were so close that Wanda would follow him, wherever he went.

              +

              The archer was lying next to him when she got there. As soon as he saw her, he sat up, guilt and sympathy flashing across his face. Wanda swallowed. Pietro’s blue shirt was torn and bloodied, and now looked purple. His face was dirt-streaked, and his eyes were closed, and he was so, so still. Her twin brother, who could never sit still, was completely and utterly motionless. No tapping of the foot, no drumming of the fingers. He was dead.

              The archer stood slowly, wincing slightly, and suddenly, Wanda hated him. Hated the child. Hated the both of them for being in the path of Ultron’s guns, hated them for being alive when her brother, her other half, was not. Scarlet glowed in her fingertips, and the archer’s eyes widened. He stepped back, and Wanda realized that he was afraid of her. And as suddenly as the hatred arrived, it fled, leaving her boneless and numb. She had spent her anger on Ultron.

              “It’s okay,” she told him, her tongue feeling heavy and foreign in her mouth. “I have it under control.”

              “Good,” the archer replied, looking as exhausted as Wanda felt.

              “I need to see him,” she stated, and the archer hesitated. He was in her path. Wanda did not want to hurt the archer, but Pietro was hers and she was his. Death did not change that. If anyone stood in her way, she would crush them.

              “I know,” the archer said softly, his voice breaking slightly. Wanda pretended not to notice. The archer and her brother were more similar than either of them would have liked to admit. “I won’t try and stop you.”

              “Good,” she shot back, no heat in her words. “You would lose.” She stepped around the archer and slowly approached her brother’s corpse. God, he was so still.

              She knelt down next to him, her hand stretching out on its own. She paused. What if, when she touched him, his skin was cold? What if the last memory she has of her brother is his skin, cold beneath her fingertips when he should be warm and energetic? But then she laughed, ignoring the strange look the archer was giving her.

              She would remember Pietro as he was. Not as Ultron made him. She would keep him with her, always, as if she had a choice.

              Reassured, she moved in front of Pietro and lifted his head, cradling it in her lap like she had done when he first claimed his speed, and broke his bones slamming into the walls. She cradled his head in her lap and sang, a soft lullaby their mother had sang to them to get the two to go to sleep. She sang and stroked his hair and pretended that she was singing him to sleep, just like any other night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, should I continue, or not? Also, what pairings should I do? Let's vote! I was thinking maybe...  
> Pietro/Clint, Wanda/Tony, Wanda/Natasha, Wanda/Clint, literally I ship like, fucking everything. Feel free to suggest a pairing not listed here!  
> Oh, and Pietro is totally coming back :D


End file.
